The Phantom's Kiss
by Le Baiser Du Fantome
Summary: Phantom of the Opera, Only in first person, in an orphanage, Christine is now Cristal, and THIS IS BASICALLY MY LIFE! Been working on this since 3 years ago. Won 3rd in Northern Kentucky Creative Writing Contest! Pleace read and comment it! Thank you! :D
1. The Mask

**The Phantom's Kiss**

By Sarah Lang

Chapter 1

I am a monster. You deny this, I'm sure, but I am. You take a small glance at my face, and you'll agree. Take a mere glimpse of my hideous appearance and you'll shun me, just as everyone else. I was abandoned at that orphanage and been there ever since I was born. I have never seen the inside of a school, and I've scarcely been outside. The reason? – do I need one? The last time I was seen without a mask on – oh, it was truly horrible. But if I can recall correctly, he just kept backing up, farther and farther. He didn't even feel the boards on the window resisting him. He just fell, about five stories. But his screams still float around in my mind; all their screams do; though he was the only person, whom, I felt, deserved it. My face is distorted, and I was brought to that miserable child's prison, by an appalled mother, who hated the only child she had, and couldn't bear to look at him any longer than she had to. The orphanage was run by a woman who was supposedly a friend of my mother. Although when I was first brought here, my first memory was this old attic in which I am typing this miserable life story on a dusty typewriter.

The room is large and small at the same time. It has many broken relicts like cracked mirrors, bashed up dressers, broken down chairs with sheets draped over it; there're manikins who've been torn up, rocking chairs with only one leg and other old and broken items. Not to mention the hundreds of boxes that I still have not bothered opening. There are books, yes – lots of books, I've read them all. All of the old Edgar Allan Poe stories with torn and coloured on pages, the aged Guy de Maupassant novels, but my favourite, the Gaston Leroux copy of _Le Fantôme De l'Opéra_. I felt as if Leroux really knew how I felt. The way the Phantom hid from the world, just as I did in this room with boarded up windows; that had a few cracks so I could see the beautiful world outside, but it couldn't see me. The ladder, which was the only way up to the attic, was up here, so no one can get in, even if they did get through the padlocked door below. I had almost no communication with the outside world at all. I often heard people below me, fighting usually; a man and woman's quarrel. I often recognized the woman's voice as that of Madame Stella's, the Mistress of the house. From those disagreements, and rare small talk, I began to learn.

I had to teach myself to read, write, count and play the repaired piano that occupies the corner, the first sanctuary I had to hide behind. Sometimes at night, if I'm quiet, I can play a few songs that I composed myself. I had never seen a piece of music before.

I spoke before of a mask, - yes – one time, Madame Stella, the "friend" of my mother, well; she was having a party of some sort down on normal level or main floor. She had come up the staircases, to the fifth floor – the attic – she was the only person with the key to the door. Madame Stella was somewhat smart at the time; she had made it so the ladder to get up would slide down the trapdoor when I opened it (I was rather weak from staying in the dark all the time, and not eating good food,) she was able to get up that way. She had come to give me the only meal I got everyday. The meal consisted of two small pieces of bread, and an extremely thin stew. But she also gave me something else, and what she gave was the first gift I had ever received. She gave me a mask that covered the entire face except for the mouth. As I took it with trebling hands, an excited smile spread across my face as I gazed at the white mask then looked at Madame Stella; her face was just as ghostly white. I wasn't able to speak, the gift was so indescribable to me, it meant so much, and all I could do was goggle at the wonderful present. She must have understood, with a slight nod she left.

"Wait," I spoke in a small and meek voice; (I never had anyone to talk to,) but it was too late, she was gone. I heard the door close and the padlock clamp shut; the ladder still down. I was looking at the trapdoor, wanting to say "Thank You," but didn't. I returned my gaze to the mask again; it seemed to pierce through the darkness of night. It was – in my opinion – the most beautiful thing my weary eyes had ever fallen upon. My fingers ran over the picture craved into it, it appeared to be a skull. My smile remained, it was the first time I had ever smiled. The mask filled my soul with an unusual happiness that echoed in the hollow emptiness of my lonely spirit. Then I decided to put it on, hide my ugliness from the world. Well, I didn't know I was revolting at the time, I just figured I was a bit abnormal. I mean, why else would I be kept in an attic, away from everyone else? I would guess I was about thirteen, I can't be sure; I had no recollection of the time or date.

I guess around thirteen because that's when I found out about _him_. _He_ was Madame Stella's only son; he was about six years younger than me. And he was a _prat_! I know because once I had the mask, I journeyed, for the first time, out of my attic. I had to be careful dismantling the doorknob to escape my dusty prison, but once it was completely unhinged with the screwdriver I found; I was free. I took the entire doorknob out and I was free to roam the building. Then I replaced the handle so it looked completely undisturbed, and I slid the screwdriver under the door, so I could reach it if I needed to. But of course I only did this at night; a while after Madame Stella had brought me my food. She always said it was midnight and everyone in the building was sleeping at the time. So I crept down the staircase, trying to take in all of the scents, all the flowery wallpaper, all the antiques lining the walls, and the thick maroon carpet on top of the wooden floors. The second and third floors were almost identical. Both were narrow and long, as long as my attic. There were about five doors on each side of the hallway, behind which were the sleeping children. The only light in the hall was the moonlight coming through the window by the staircase and at the other end of the corridor.

I wandered down the two floors and stood in the middle of the landing, craving the experience that was both new and odd to me. A wrinkle of a grin rippled under my mask. My mouth slightly hung open in astonishment. Ever inch of my body tingled with excitement and was numb of anticipation. With every cool breath I took my heart fluttered like the moths that flap urgently in my hands as I set them free when they accidentally enter my prison.

The place had a unique smell that I had never experienced before; it smelt of wood, not dust, of faint roses, not mould, and as I got closer to the main floor, a sweet aroma hit me. It smelt delicious; I could basically taste it on my tongue, the sensational scent called to me. I reached the main floor in what seemed to be a lengthy time, fantasized by the alien sceneries. I looked around slightly and took a sharp right turn, and travelled down a small hallway. I wanted to know what the mouth-watering perfume was, so I kept going down the corridor until the cologne was so strong coming from the door that stood right beside me. I took one last great whiff of the air and without thought I opened the door.

To my horror, I saw I had just walked in on Madame Stella baking a treat for her son; they both froze and turned to stare at me. I had never seen Madame Stella in proper lighting before, (she had always greeted me with a lantern to give me my meal,) but now I saw her standing in front of an oven, holding a sheet of the treats. She had a type of thin, golden hair that was drawn back in a loose bun, she was still in her daywear apparently, a large green dress with white stars and trim that barely touched the floor. Draped over that was a white apron, and her hands were covered with oven mitts which had little blue flowers sewn on them. Her face was filled with colour at first, rosy cheeks shattered to pasty white, and her smile drained with it.

Her son, on the other hand, was sitting on his knees at the large table in the middle of the room; he was in a long cream coloured nightshirt that went past his knees. He, unlike his mother, had thin, light white-blonde hair that was somewhat long and slightly messy, as if he had just woken up, and his face was covered in freckles that emphasized his hazel eyes. His hands were outstretched to take the steaming treats from the hot baking sheet.

"Oh my," Madame Stella's voice was shaky; she dropped the sheet of treats, which made everyone jump and she suddenly made her way over to me. But her son resented this; he quickly jumped out of his seat and started asking questions: "Who is he? I've never seen him before. Why is he wearing that stupid mask? Are we being robbed?" But Madame Stella just ignored him. She snatched my arm that hung lamely by my side, her grip was tight and powerful as she pulled me out of the room quickly and led me back up the staircase; her son following close by, still asking questions. But Madame Stella continued to overlook her son's company and started her own conversation with me.

"Why did you leave? Didn't I tell you, you have to stay up there?" she snapped. I shook my head and tried to pull free but she neglected to release my arm and just sped up the stairs as her son fell quiet to listen into the discussion, "Well?" she continued, "Didn't I? Answer me." I looked far back into my memories, but she had never told me such a thing, she rarely spoke to me at all.

But at that time her son took his finger and jabbed it sharply into my back. My sudden outburst of pain must have awakened a few of the occupants of the nearby rooms, because doors began to creak open and heads popped out. Many stares, whispers and pointed fingers occurred. But Madame Stella continued to ignore it all as we were neared the fourth floor; I could tell because of the lack in the sweet aroma. By now nearly all of the residents of the building were following us. We were almost to the door now, but I didn't want to go back, not yet, the world was right here, and I had just begun to live and experience it! But Madame Stella went on to unlock the door, opened it and threw me in; I hit the wall covered in flowery wallpaper across from the door and turned to Madame Stella, "Think you're pretty smart, do you? Wanted to see the world now that you've got that?" she jabbed a finger at my mask, "Well, for your information, that was not a passport to get out to us." She took a second to look around and saw all the other curious children clogging the hallway around her, watching, wanting to know who the masked person was. "But now -," turning back to me, she spoke in a fake sweet voice; unlike the bitter and cruel one before, "–now since you saw us, it's time we see _you!_" she lunged forward and grabbed the mask off my face. All I did was gasp.

There were several screams and many cries of terror. I stared in wide-eyed fear as the crowd turned away and shouted and yelled at me. Someone even took a vase from a nearby antique table, threw it over the crowd and just above my ducking head; it shattered, getting my back wet with warm water and withered flowers. I looked into the eyes of some of the people in the front who hadn't turned away, and I saw fear, a complete fear and disgust of my face. "No," I told myself, painfully. It couldn't be happening, why did they hate me so? I could feel a tear swelling in my eye.

"You can come out anytime, now since they've seen who you _really_ are," Madame Stella announced, smiling a devilish grin. There were many shouts of "NO!" and with that I snatched the mask from the brutal woman's hands, ran to the ladder and began to climb. Madame Stella was still smiling the wicked smile as she slammed the door shut.

I got to the top of the ladder and folded it up to close the trapdoor, but before I shut it completely, I heard what Madame Stella was saying to the crowd of sickened, terrified, and sobbing children, "Now, I'm locking this door, it is to _stay_ locked. If I catch any of you up here trying to get in, it'd'll no dinner for a _week_. You are all to forget about this, no one is to come up here, and he won't be down anytime soon, I can assure you that. Now, off to bed." There were several sniffs from the crowd and mutters, but all was drained away by the sound of all the feet going down the wood scented stairs.

I pulled the trapdoor up quickly. Wiping a few tears away from my eyes, I turned around, walked past quite a few sheet covered chairs, walked over to my broken down bed and took a seat. I looked around at my boarded up windows, it was still well into the night. I could tell; there were no golden rays of sunshine beaming through the cracks in the boards, only gleaming moonbeams. I thought thoroughly of the reactions of the bystanders that saw my face. No one, except Madame Stella, had seen my face before. Was I that hideous? What kind of beast am I to make so many children, so many, scream in such a way? I had apparently been wrong in thinking that Madame Stella was a kind caring woman. Instead, she was a cruel and foul beast with a rotten heart. I was surprised that the merciless brute hadn't poisoned my food if she hated me so much. Heaving a heavy sigh of exasperation, shame, and confusion, I threw myself on to my old deflated pillows. Then I looked at the mask in my hand, there was no hint of a grin to be found on my "hideous" expression. This mask used to make me smile; it slightly filled my empty heart with a tint of happiness. But now – nothing. I supposed it was just tiredness. I gently put it on the dusty table next to my bed. Gazing up at the ceiling of my prison, I didn't want to try and sort out my thoughts of disarray, and slowly, very slowly drifted off to sleep of merciless nightmares that made my body shake in shame.


	2. He Heard

Chapter 2

The next morning I woke up to the sound of children standing around my door, chattering, but they quickly scattered when Madame Stella's husband, Côme, came up the stairs to investigate the disappearance of many children from breakfast. There was only one other room on the floor and that was across the hall from my door; other than that it was a dead end. So the children had no choice but to face Côme. I got out of my bed and slowly walked over to the trapdoor, listening hard to the conversation. I tried not to be heard as I journeyed across the room; for certain floorboards squeaked. Côme wasn't at all strict about the subject. While I was standing on the trapdoor I heard Côme say calmly, "-Now I don't know why you aren't allowed up here. But I _do_ know that if Madame Stella catches you then she'll punish you with something worse than a warning, like I'm giving you. -" He also explained the arrival of someone new that day. The man's speech was pathetic and childish sounding. I could hear feet going down the stairway, a few of the children were murmuring amongst themselves. Easing up a little bit, I walked back over to my bed which had spider threads of hazy, golden, morning sunlight glinting on it's thin and worn blanket. I didn't care if I was stepping on the squeaks in the dusty, wooden floorboards, for I thought no one was on the floor below me. But I was wrong. Once I was standing near my bed and glistening sunlight danced on my feet, I heard a faint sigh and footsteps walking towards the staircase. Côme had been listening to me. I was frozen in my spot. As children, the orphans were more likely to forget my existence, as if it were a bad dream. But Côme was a grown man; he'd remember my presence there for a long time.

This fear made my heart skip a beat; I felt my stomach twist and turn, like a fish that's been washed up on to the shore. I tried to swallow my fear, but it felt like knives slithering down my throat. Not to mention my limbs felt numb. It took a while for me to blink and breathe regularly again. I didn't see Côme then but I did see him later. I'll explain that, but at pace. At that moment my thoughts started making scenarios of Côme and Madame Stella plotting against me. My mind projected images of tortuous things the devious couple might do. These ideas surged my mind away from Côme and remembered how Madame Stella had deceived me the night before. I made up my mind to prove the arrogant woman wrong. I _would_ come down the next day. I sat by my boarded window and waited.


	3. The Girl Humming & an Unexpected Letter

**Chapter 3**

I stayed up all night for thoughts of the next day kept me from sleeping. Madame Stella never came to give my food, and I was extremely hungry. But then the sun began to rise slightly, the dim hazy golden rays of light danced on the dusty floor. I had been pacing around the attic but stopped abruptly, making my way over to the window, I fixed my eyes down upon the lawn. Someone was already outside, a girl, in a whitish dress that pierced through the fog and darkness. I couldn't see her well though, she was too close the building and the boards prevented me from seeing that low. Not to mention the fog was so dense, I could barely see the trees at the edge of the yard. But I didn't care; I heard something, the most beautiful noise my ears had ever heard. The girl was humming, a stunning tune that I had never heard before. And she hummed it so well, her voice was - indescribable, words are not worthy of the true gorgeousness of her magnificent voice. I felt as if I was being consumed by sound. I sensed the beautiful notes spiraling around me; they gently entered and whirled around in my head. It seemed, to me, that a weight had been taken off my heart; I felt as light as the dust in the air around me. For the first time in my life I knew what true beauty was. Happiness and beautiful notes flooded my empty soul; I wanted to stay in that emotion, that state. I never wanted it to end; it felt as if that was my place of peace, comfort, and beauty. I wish I could describe it more, but no more words can portray that wonderful sensation. I remember just standing there, my mouth going dry from having it hang open for so long. My eyes didn't go dry though, although they were wide in amazement.

She hummed on for a long time before being interrupted by the door opening, a flash of light that was brighter than the sun at this point, a low mumble and the girl was gone. It must have been breakfast. But I continued to stand there, open-mouthed, still captivated by her voice.

By now, the sun has risen up all the way, and children began to flood into the yard. I chose to go right then. I grabbed my mask from the table and was off. I had to be discreet, I was almost certain that Madame Stella took extra precautions to guarantee that I wouldn't escape again. Making sure the ladder was down so I could get back up if I were caught, I decided to go past the trapdoor and remove the floor boards that I knew was above the hallway; not too many, just large enough for me to slip through. Passing through the hole I noticed the space between the ceiling of the hallway and the floor of the attic was just wide enough for me to crawl through. Though I passed that, removed the square ceiling tile and I fell right into the middle of the deserted hall.

The scent of wood and flowers intoxicated me again. It was even more beautiful during the day. The walls where drenched in radiant sunlight, I took it all in as if it were a sweet rare wine. Silently, I crept down the staircase again. No one was inside, the place was abandoned; this was good, very good. I could finally journey around a little without being seen.

I reached the bottom stair, (still crouching low in case someone was still inside. Just in case. But no, they were all gone.) I was on the main floor and turned sharply to my left at the foot of the stair, as I had the other night. I passed the door that I found Madame Stella and her son, Joel, behind and I heard voices and froze.

"You caught them in front of his door? And you _didn't_ punish them?" It was Madame Stella. Her voice was ugly with fury, but not as harsh as it was two nights ago.

"Dear, you must understand, they weren't _trying_ to get in, they were just – standing there talking about it," Côme replied. His tone was a soothing calm, with forced reassuring notes.

"So? That's no excuse! They're not supposed to be near it!"

"Stella, darling, please, all you told me was that they weren't allowed to get in the room, may I ask why?" There was silence, as if she was choosing her next words carefully. I pressed my ear against the door.

The woman's harsh, cold toned voice turned to pity and sadness as she started to explain. "Thirteen years ago, you remember when we started the business, my old friend, Amnita, she had heard about it, and dropped by late one night. She had been crying; her husband had left her because of their child. I didn't see her, bu-"

Côme interrupted briefly. "How did you know she was crying if you didn't see her?"

"She had left a note with her one and only son. It was shamefully stained with tears," Madame Stella continued. "-Well, at least I thought it was a boy. The face on the thing," She pathetically chuckled slightly, a hint of tear in her voice, "My nightmares are still haunted by it. It was terrible. And the note just ripped my heart out."

"What did it say? Do you still have it?"

"I've kept it, yes. I believe it's in the box –" her voice trailed away as her footsteps crossed the wooden floor. A drawer opened and papers rustled. She continued, "I almost have it memorized. I've kept it to remind me of why I put myself through this." There was some more crackling of paper, and I pushed my ear harder against the door, struggling to hear, thirsty for information.

She began to read the letter,

"My dearest Stella,

I hope your business is doing well. I hate to ask you for something, after all you've done for me, but can you take my Erik? I can't stand it anymore! The little monster is terrorizing my life! His face is haunting me! He wouldn't be trouble, but I just can't TAKE IT!! Because of this beast my beloved husband's left me! He didn't like the face of his only son! And neither do I!

Please, Stella, my friend, Stella, help me in my time of need. He's just 9 months old. I have no intention of returning for him. I NEVER want to see him EVER again!!

Thank you dearly,

**Amnita****"**

She ended with a sniff, and my eyes where filled with tears too. Was I that hideous that my own mother hated me? I felt my mouth was open and closed it temperately.

Madame Stella continued, a hint tears still in her voice as she folded up the letter, "I then opened the bundle Erik was in. I was terrified. His face, - she was wise to leave him, I would have left him on the doorstep, or thrown him into the creek, just to rid myself of that terrible, hideous face."

"But you didn't," I had almost forgotten that Côme was still there.

"No, I didn't. And I should have," This shocked me, I could feel tears streaming down my face behind the mask, "He probably would have left my dreams, and the other children wouldn't be so scared."

I couldn't take it any longer; I turned away, and ran into another room down the hall. It appeared to be some sort of study. Bookshelves filled with encyclopaedias and dictionaries lined the walls. In the middle of the room I found a desk with a typewriter, papers, envelopes, pens, quills, ink and sealing wax were all cluttered on it. I saw an open window behind the furniture, and climbed over the desk and through the window; spilling ink and papers as I went.


	4. In the Woods

Chapter 4

In the Woods

The outside world, at last, I should have been excited, but instead, crushed. It took awhile to notice the cool, crisp air stinging my mouth. I wiped away the last few tears, and gazed around. It was gorgeous! A high wooden fence lined all the way around the yard except in the far back where trees stood, representing the beginning of the woods. Rolling, luscious, soft, green grass flickered in the chilling breeze. The other children's playful screams filled my ears, along with the whistle of the wind and chirping of various different birds. The glorious air that filled my lungs smelt of cold, water, meadows, and faint, various flowers. I began to walk into the sun-drenched backyard from the shadow covered side-yard; the children were much more visible; all of them playing different games with each other. The children gaily ran around and giggled. I watched in awe as they played so blithely. I say in awe because I've never had a 'friend' to play with before.

Quickly forgetting all of their reactions from the other night; I walked straight to the middle of yard. I tried to absorb all the senses; all the children's colourful, yet dark, clothing, all the music that the balls, ropes, and other toys made when the children dropped them, and the uncomfortable tingling in my spine as all their eyes fell upon me. Every single one of them stopped what they were doing to stare at me in silence. But all I could do was smirk, not just because I was outside, but because I was amongst other people. It took a while for me to find my voice, but then I spoke over the loud silence, "Hello."

"What are _you_ doing out here?" Joel's voice rang out from behind me; his tone was drenched in attitude of smart disgust. I whipped around. "You're supposed to be in the attic still."

"Well, I'm apparently not, now am I?" I replied bitterly at his sourness.

From behind him, Joel's friend nudged him and whispered something in his ear, I couldn't hear it. But Joel's face lit up and they turned away out of my view. They came back seconds later, their arms filled with stones. Many of the other orphans began to cheer; others chanted something I couldn't understand. Confusion, once again fled my mind; what was going on? I never in my wildest dreams thought that they'd start throwing the stones at me. They were heavy and stung as they hit my feeble body, leaving large bruises all over me. I threw my arms over my head and turned my back to them. I didn't release a single scream of pain though. I just took a deep intake of breath every time a cold stone would hit my body, leaving a hot, fiery spot. The two of them soon ran out of stones and tackled me; hitting me, calling me names like "Freak," and "Demon," and "Monster."

The other children were laughing and mocking me as well. The only person, who tried to stop them, was a girl in a white dress. I was able to fight the two of them off of me and stand up slightly, and she pushed them away saying in a sweet voice that was bitter with hatred, "Back off! Just leave him alone!" But the last chance Joel had, he grabbed my mask right off my face as the girl pulled me to the ground. I landed on my back, my eyes closed tight. I heard the petrified screams of the children again.

Through the screams I heard the girl's sweet, charming voice. "Are you all right?" I opened my eyes wide; the girl was on top of me, her face in half concern half disgust. She had golden-brown wavy hair, her blue eyes were wide and beautiful, and her face, pale, but her cheeks were rosy and smooth looking. She was the most stunning girl I had ever seen and probably will ever see. I shook my head, and covered my face with my hand; I didn't want her beauty to see my "hideous" face. I had never seen my own face before, but I didn't want her too see, from the reactions of the others I knew I was ugly. I quickly pushed her off of me while turning onto my stomach and pushed myself to my feet. I grabbed my mask from Joel and pushed him back at the same time. He was smiling the same wicked smile his mother did the other night, and I ran as fast as I could into the woods. Joel and his friend chuckled as I scampered off.

I continued to run, jumping over logs and trees stumps, for the longest time. I ran until I was out of breath, and I couldn't hear the brawls, and angry shouts of the children at the orphanage. I began to feel tears flowing down my face. I stopped running and commenced to walking through the thick weeds, completely breathless and panting with every step. I snapped my mask back on as I continued on; I stopped weeping when I heard the running of water. I was near a brook. Suddenly parched, I searched for it desperately. After a while of searching, I finally found it.

Clear water flowed quickly over smooth stones at the bottom. Without thought, I walked over to the bank, fell to my knees, cupped my hands and let the cool water fill them. I drank it urgently, till my fill.

I stopped drinking and gazed at my reflection in the water. The skull mask looked very appealing on me in my opinion. It seemed to dance on the surface of the running water. Questions erupted into my head. What made them all scream? Who was I really? What was behind the mask; Man or Beast? With a great effort, I took a wet hand and placed it over the disguise. I closed my eyes, and slid it off, slowly – oh so slowly. – And gently I opened my eyes.

Looking back at me in the water; was a gruesome beast; a frightened ghastly creature, with enormous clumps of thick brown hair. Tears flooded my eyes again. I ran my hand over my grisly appearance, the reflection did the same. It was real! My face looked as if it had melted away; I barely had a nose; it looked like it had been eroded badly. My entire face was a pale, ghostly white colour, but where mounts of flesh hung, a flesh-red colour dripped from underneath it. It was truly hideous. The only thing that looked halfway normal was my mouth and my eyes, which were a deep hazel-green.

"I _am_ a monster," I spoke with great pain. Each word came out of my mouth like immense spears. As I gazed at the likeness, my lip trembled, and tears made ripples in the brook bellow.

The sun had begun to sink from the sky; crickets starting to chirp and owls establishing hoots. The running of the water and my cries of melancholy loneliness were the only sounds being made. For miles, I suppose. Those were the only noises, except for the sudden snipping of a twig from behind me. I snapped around to see the girl standing behind me, barely out of the corner of my eye. Surprised and ashamed, I tried to casually turn back around, and her sweet voice sent shivers down my spine, "Hi." I tried not to reply, but I couldn't stop myself, "Hi," my voice not as lovable as hers; I slowly slipped my mask back on. She stood there for a while not speaking, not moving from what I heard.

After a long time, her voice rang out again, this time with a tint of frustration in her tone, "You must be the most arrogant person in the world!"

"And what makes you say that?" I responded with the small tone of bitterness, faintly glancing back at her, though I still faced the creek. 'Person'? I wasn't even human from the way my face looked.

"Well for one thing," she said as if she had made a list, "I helped you out before and you don't even thank me!"

"Well, if makes you feel any better, 'Thank you,'" I mocked as I turned all the way around to face the beauty, then back around to the creek.

"Thank you," she said, still maintaining the same note of agitation. "Second thing, you don't even respond to me when I asked if you were okay."

I stammered for words to answer this insulter, "Well, I -" I began, turning around to face her again, but she cut me off.

"And thirdly, you threw me on the ground."

"You threw me down first!"

"So, I'm a lady," she said smartly, drawing herself up some. "Women have that kind of authority over men."

"Excuse me?!" I got up and started to walk toward her, "Authority?"

"Yes," she said uncouthly.

"You're not even a lady yet," I found myself almost yelling; "You're only – only – how old are you?" the tone still not lifting. There was barely a distance between us as I stood a head taller then her.

"Seven," her voice rising also in anger as she punched her hips with her fists, "And how old are you?"

"I don't know;" annoyance still in my accent.

"What do you mean you 'don't know how _old you are_'?"

"I mean, I DON'T KNOW! THIRTEEN, I GUESS! _I DON'T KNOW!!!!_"

The girl was taken aback for being yelled at. We turned our backs to each other. There was a moment of silence, when birds made final calls for the day. More bugs and animals joined into the symphony of the night, the tune was the only sound filling the darkened air. But then she turned and spoke again; the sweetness was back in her voice, "What's your name?"

"I -," I was about to say, 'I don't know,' in the furious voice; but stopped myself, thinking about the letter I had overheard before. My mother had called me -

"- Erik." I spoke quietly and distantly, dazing out into the trees across the creek. I didn't bother turning around.

"Erik?"

"Yes, I suppose. What's your name?" I asked, facing her, before she could question me.

"Cristal," she said, looking me directly in the eyes. A look of enquiry flickered on her face, and her beautiful voice sounded uncertain, as if she were hesitant to answer the question.

"Cristal?" I thought she was as beautiful as her name.

"Yes, Cristal," she said dully, "I have a question."

"Go ahead and ask it then."

"Why do you wear that stupid mask?" she stretched her hand out to take it off of me.

But I quickly reacted. Slapping her hand away, I jumped back and yelled "NO!" She looked shocked, "Don't touch my mask!" I snapped, without meaning to.

"Forgive me. I didn't know," she said a little bitter, lettering her hand fall cautiously to her side.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you." And I turned away.

She was quiet for a while, then spoke sympathetically to me, "Why are you being so polite, when you where just yelling at me before?"

"Once again, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten angry," I walked over to the brook bank and sat down. It was finally night; freezing wisps of air swept down the water. A silver moon danced in the glassy brook. I sat with my knees up embraced in my arms. My eyes were gazing at the shimmering water, and my chin was on my knees. I must've looked utterly miserable. Cristal came over and sat next to me. I made no effort to acknowledge her. But she spoke a musically gorgeous whisper in my ear, "You have every right to be angry. Especially after want those boys did to you."

I closed my eyes; her voice was a treat to my miserable soul. I bowed my head upon my knees, and she placed her hands on my shoulders; they were both warm and cold at the same time. She was slightly leaning on me, like a slim embrace. Then, she began to hum. It was a beautiful tune. I had heard it before. I opened my eyes, brought my head up and said softly as if in a trance, "It was you."

"Please?" She stopped humming. I looked at her. My heart filled with excitement.

"You were the one – outside - early this morning. I heard you humming."

"Oh," She blushed and looked away; the moonlight was simply lovely on her. All I could do was smile at her, and she faintly smiled back.

In a desperate attempt to change the topic, she then looked up at the moon, it was a crescent.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said in a thoughtful voice.

"Yes, completely stunning," I muttered, charmed by her beauty.

"I never used to be able to see the moon at night," Cristal was gazing at the moon with a sympathetic wonder. "I was always covered by heavy storm clouds." Her expression was half mournful, half in awe.

"That must've been terrible," I was surprised at the amount of empathy in my voice. I couldn't imagine not being able to see the moon. Even in my prison, I could still marvel at the moon's glow. "Where did you use to live?"

Cristal's beautiful face fell, she looked as if she were about to cry.

"I'm sorry. It's not my place."

"No, it's quite alright," Cristal said, now smiling. "I don't like to talk about my past much."

We both looked back up at the moon.

It wasn't long before the night's symphony was interrupted again. "Wait," Cristal's face went pale, in fear the longer she looked at the slim, silvery grin in the inky dark sky, "It must be far past midnight."

"What's wrong?"

"Monsieur Côme, will be wondering where I am."

"Oh," a sense of misery and loneliness filled my heart once again. For the first in my life, I had felt as if I had almost belonged amongst the race of man, but just like that, the feeling was gone, and all that was left was emptiness once more.

"Do you know the way out of here?" Cristal almost sounded eager to leave.

"I'm pretty sure," I had a stiff tone in my voice; that sounded like bitterness to myself.

"That's great," her every word dripping with enthusiasm as she got up, "We'd better hurry or we'll get in trouble."

"Sure," I stood also. I could feel my face get sterner and stiffen drastically from behind my mask. My lips clamped tightly together and I tried not to show any sign of criticism.

Our journey took a while for Cristal's dress kept getting stuck in branches. And I had almost led us into the brook. Not much was said on the way back, I felt a heavy weight of anger on my heart. But I had no reason to be angry. If anything I should've been grateful and ecstatic to be near her. And I was, my stomach was flittering away again, but my heart's jealousy baffled me. I seemed to have mixed emotions about the girl; annoyance and low tolerance towards her arrogant questions, but an extreme fondness for the fact that she was actually _talking_ to me. Once the voyage had ended, the trees opened into the backyard and the only light was that of the moon.

Cristal smiled a blissful grin as I stepped out of the way so she could see the orphanage. I don't know why she so happy to see the old building, and I didn't ask her. I felt that if she was glad to see the edifice that her past may be a place that I shouldn't intrude especially after what happened at the creek. She brushed past me, not even giving me a look of thanks or gratitude. She hadn't taken her eyes off the scene since she had looked at it, and it was really starting to annoy me. Why did she make a fuss when I didn't say thank you, and she doesn't even say it? The first word that came to my mind was "hypocrite," but I didn't say anything.

Cristal continued to walk a dazed pace toward the door, and opened it gently. She skulked inside, I at her heels, and we were just about to pass the door, where I had heard Madame Stella and Côme talking before, when it flew open and out pounced Côme. He seemed to be huge. His head was a large red ball with sandy-blonde hair and bulging blue eyes.

He grabbed both our necks with, what seemed like, enormous hands, and he dragged us both into the room, which now smelt like pipe smoke. He slammed the door behind him and then he started ranting an unknowledgeable language that echoed off the stone walls. He had veins emerging from his huge forehead and muscular throat. Cristal and I stood, wide-eyed, in fear.

I glanced at Cristal, she had tears streaming down her gorgeous face; she covered her ears with her hands, turned away, and sort of cradled herself that way. Côme started thrashing his arms about and throwing things from nearby counters, like a loaf of bread, a bunch of cups and a cutting board.

The loaf of bread hit Cristal in the side, and she threw herself on the floor, crying and shaking. The cups he threw missed us barely and smashed on the wall and table behind us. The cutting board hit me square in the chest, knocking the air out of me and throwing me back a few paces, making me bump into the large wooden table behind, nearly knocking a large, empty, glass bottle to the ground. I had almost collapsed to the stone floor, but Côme seized the back of my neck hard, and took hold of Cristal by her hair, and he dragged us, out of the room, and up the stairs.

Other children began to sleepily wander out of their rooms again to see what all the yelling and screaming was about. They saw Cristal and I thrashing about; struggling to get free. I could feel Côme's large hand bruising my neck, stifling me. I saw that Cristal's head had dripped a small drop of blood, from the firm grasp upon her hair.

The three of us, all struggling for one reason or another, had entered the fourth floor hallway. Côme, then, furiously threw Cristal to the ground, opened up a door, (that was across the hallway from mine) and heaved her inside. Not loosening his grip on my neck, he locked Cristal's door, turned, unlocked, opened and threw me into the attic.

I remember hitting the wall across from the door, and sliding down it, as if I was dieing. I took heavy and painful breaths of the old tasting air.

I can't remember the rest of that day.


	5. After the Attack

Chapter 5

After the Attack

I can recall waking up sometime later, holding my head while clambering up the ladder, and finding the bluish light piercing through the boards on the window. It was night, or still night, I wasn't sure, my head hurt terribly. Kneading the side of my skull that hit the wall with my fingertips, I stumbled over to my bed. I clung onto sheet-covered chairs as I passed them; my legs were so unstable and unpredictable. My body tingled as my feet shuffled around the dusty floorboards.

I felt light, as if I was falling. I sat down and tried leaning my head back, but I couldn't, my neck hurt too much. I looked around the hell I have been condemned to return to. A shattered mirror with a sheet draped over it stood behind a broken sewing mannequin.

I staggered over to the mirror and whipped the dusty cover off. After the cloud of dust cleared a little I looked into the reflection. My mask was still on, but I didn't remove it. I didn't want to see the beast that I was. I then examined the large black and blue hands wrapped around my neck. I ran my fingers over them, and it burned. My attention was then distracted from the wounds; I looked at my eyes, the deep hazel-green colours stared at me, they were shiny and glassy, like when I was crying. Crying, I was crying. Crying out; to what seemed to be my last chances of happiness. And now I had nothing left but –

"Loneliness," I spoke shakily to the wretched reflection. Deep in thought, I threw the drape back over the mirror and walked, mournfully, back to my bed.

Lying down on my flattened pillow, I stared at the ceiling. I reflected on the terrible ordeal Côme put Cristal and I through. I thought all these humans where alike. I was wrong – terribly wrong. I am a monster. And if this is how people treat others who are different in their appearance, then I'm better off not to be seen! – If they can abuse those for no reason, then my wrath shall challenge theirs! - If I was shown no compassion, they won't get any in return. I grew furious; I ripped my mask off and threw it onto the table beside my bed, and turned irately on my side, facing the wall.

I cursed the day I ever saw the outside world, and all of its cruel people. I even cursed the wind which whipped and stung my face with its cool breeze. I even cursed the first time I ever laid my blinded eyes on Cristal's gorgeous and radiant face; and when my deaf ears heard her magnificent voice.

Tears ran down my deformed face. I was never going to be ill-treated again; or as far as I could prevent it. I didn't want to be this way, a freak of nature. So I would never be known as Erik again! – (Though I was never known as Erik) – I curse the name and those who would speak it in the building below. – What a monstrosity I must be. I didn't even know my own name, until that day. But it wasn't my fault, at least – it wasn't supposed to be.


	6. Eight Years

Chapter 6

Eight Years

After that night, I had not been seen by another person for, what I found out to be eight years. Those years felt like a painful eternity. Every day Cristal would mock me with her beauty, I found myself watching her from my boarded window. She won't play with the other children in the backyard; she would sit by the edge of the yard and mind her own. I forever remained in the attic though. I had to steal things that were vital to life. Like food which I stole from the kitchen, the place where Côme had attacked me, and I had stolen Joel's eveningwear to wear as clothes, Joel was much larger than I was, so they fit pretty well. Eight long years, and every night I played the piano softly for Cristal, who had long since forgotten about me, I'm sure, and sometimes, when I felt like it, I'd sing to her. When I did, I could hear her singing in the back of my mind. I never let myself be seen by her, and she never knew it was I; I'd stop playing before she woke up, so she'd think it was all in her dreams.

My mask was always on. I never took it off, even when I slept, which was rare. On those occasions my dreams were, surprisingly not always about Cristal, but of the glorious world outside and its cruelties. I dreamt of the day I first saw humanity, external from my dark prison. I relived the disaster of Madame Stella ripping my mask off. I dreamt of the screams of the orphans when they saw my hellish face. I saw the children turning away, the vase flying through the air toward me, and the rocks stinging my body. I dreamt of Cristal's disgusted expression when she saw me. I dreamt of her on top of me, her beautiful face pursed at my appearance, and her saying in Madame Stella's, Joel's, and her own voice, "I can't stand it anymore! You little monster terrorize everything! Why can't you just be GONE!" – . . . – But of course there is one dream. A rare occurrence it is, but I savour its splendour. Cristal and I stand on a heavenly, glistening cloud. She wears a white dress as pure as her soul. She removes my mask and caresses my normal face. We smile at each, she neither winces nor raises an eyebrow, and she touches my hand with her own. We stand there and bask in the shower of stars and love that we so sincerely create. This pure ecstasy suddenly shifts, and I am staring at myself in a mirror, and the mirror shatters; I wake up. This dream, although true angelic bliss, tortures my realistic mind by taunting me with unreachable desires.

Despite these sombre horrors, I rarely found joy outside of Cristal's smile, but I was completely overjoyed to find out that that year the orphanage was closing, and a theatre group was taking over. And I was even more thrilled when I found out that Cristal was staying there with the group! The only down side to this joyous news was that Joel was staying too, but I didn't care, Cristal was there, and that's all that mattered. I could continue singing songs to her while she slept; and listening to her hum as she woke up ever morning.

I realized that over the years, she became more and more beautiful in appearance. Her room remained on the fourth floor, and I could remove the floor boards of the attic and ceiling tiles of her room to watch her snooze through the night while she dreamt. Her room was similar to the hallway, flowery wallpaper, thick maroon carpet on the wood floors and some antiquish relics were in there also. She had a large mirror leaning against the wall, a dresser that held her make-up and hairbrushes, a smallish bed in the middle of the room which had a bed table next to it, a table that served as a pointless desk, and other useless decorations.

The reason the orphanage closed down made my spirits soar when I found out. Côme was thrown in prison for attacking a police officer while drunk one night. Because she didn't have the money to bail him out, Madame Stella tried to seduce men, but had gotten caught and was sent to prison for the men she tried to entice were the coppers themselves. It added up to about forty-five years in prison. The theatre guild bought the building and offered a home and jobs to the orphans. Those who didn't want to stay left for other orphanages. Many of the orphans, surprisingly, chose to go and leave. But to spare their own already ruined reputations, I suppose they orphans may have been able to find a real family but not being plagued with the curse status actors presently have.

Joel saw it below himself to bail his parents out. After deciding to stay with the theatre, he began to strut about in front of the young women who chose to stay, like Cristal, and other young girls who cane with the group. Joel would parade around the ballerina girls, who would laugh and giggle, most likely at his stupidity. The fool seemed to take a certain fancy in Cristal. Many times I would see him showing off in the back yard in front of her and her new friend. He often attempted to tell jokes and do flips, but his fat head was simply too attracted to the ground. After he ran inside crying, Cristal and her ballerina friend would laugh hysterically and try to recompose his ridiculous actions. But I admired Cristal for always rejecting Joel's futile attempts as a suitor, and insulting him whether in or out of earshot. My heart grew as I knew she could not be taken that easily.


	7. The Director and His Finger

Chapter 7

The Director and his Finger

Six months, according to the calendar in the kitchen, was the time it took for the theatre group to put on their first performance. Cristal was given a role unworthy of her ability; she was cast as a chorus member, with the smallest solo that insulted me dearly. While Joel, on the other hand, had a minor role, as a person who was on the stage for 1\4 of the play. I was even more offended by this. Joel was a terrible actor and couldn't carry a tune to save his life.

I left a demand, telling the director that he was to cast Cristal as, at least, a minor role in their next performance. She was more than ready for this.

And yet, the director cast her as a chorus member again, with a solo that was slightly larger than her last. Joel was, again, cast as a minor role.

I then left another demand, and even threatened the director. I stated,

"Cristal is ready for a slightly larger role. She _**will**_ be cast as a minor role, at the very least, next time. Listen to the very voice of this angel! She is worthy of far more then you offer.

Do this or I will see to it, personally, that one of your ten closest friends won't see the next show.

Your respectful friend_,_

Le Baiser Du Fantôme_"_

This note had apparently led the director to think that Cristal had sent it herself; she wasn't even cast in the next play.

Infuriated, I was obligated to hold true to my word. Late one night, as the director slumbered peacefully behind his unlocked door. I crept down the staircases to his room, wearing a black cape with a hood to hide my face, even my mask. Carrying nothing but a knife and a handkerchief, I opened his door silently. Closing the door behind me, I snuck in, then, right by his bedside; I used the handkerchief to tie his mouth shut. I thrust the clothe into the man's mouth; he awoke suddenly, and tried to scream, but the handkerchief prevented that. I restrained him by sitting on him, holding his arm down with one of my legs and weighing his body down with mine. Taking his other arm; I forced his hand into a fist, leaving the index finger extended.

"You should have heeded my warning," I spoke calmly to him as I took the knife out and placed it at the base of his finger; I saw his eyes widen with fear and he grunted and squirmed more franticly. "And now you'll pay." And with that I sliced the finger off with a satisfying ease. He tried to scream with pain, but the handkerchief held his shrieks back. Moaning, and staring at his bleeding hand, the director thrashed his legs about. Blood stained the sheets and his night clothes. His eyes were glassy; the reflection of blood and light flickered in them. The director's muffled shrieks and the squeaks from his bed seemed to echo in the night.

I grew tired of his squirming, so I took the oil lamp from the bed table and hit him across the face. He stopped moving, but he wasn't dead, just unconscious.

I took the finger (so they couldn't sew it back on, but mostly it because it seemed to be a trophy for me) and left a note saying that if my demands are not met then another insistent like this would happen again.

The morning after brought swarms of coppers, Cristal was pressed for questioning. My poor, poor Cristal. Two offices closed themselves with her in her room. They bantered, they prodded, and yet Cristal continued to say, "I don't know." It wasn't until she had a single, glistening tear roll down her perfect cheek that they finally were convinced she was as innocent as she looked. The police, after looking for two days, were convinced by the director and concluded that an enemy of his just settled a grudge. No further investigation was needed and the director assured them everything would be fine. Obviously he was scared of what may happen next if the disturbance of the police continued.

In the next play, Cristal was then cast as a minor role. It was a start. But Joel was still getting better roles than she was. So in my next note, I insisted on having Joel cast as a minor; and that if he wasn't Cristal should have a main role, and Joel not be in it at all.

The director understood, and cast Joel as a minor and gave Cristal a slightly larger part. I smiled at this with a pleased, yet somewhat devilish, satisfactory. I felt as if he was beginning to get the idea I was so ardently sending.

I was sure that Cristal had just thought it was luck. So as I sang to her one night, I wrote her a note. I poured, to her, my heart and every ounce of compassion I had to give to a human being. But since it was Cristal, I gave all and more compassion I had. It read something like this:

My Beloved Cristal,

This is your angel, who has been helping you. I sing to you at night, and now I am giving you all that I can. All of these good things are happening to you because the theatre is mine and is at my very command. I was here first, and I will remain here 'til it and I start to decay.

My lovely Cristal, you are to obey me, your new master. I will guide you and teach all I know. So now, dearest Cristal, you are mine too. Tell your director that you obey me now and that I will be teaching you every night, for I am bound to you as you are bound to me. We are bound by the power of music.

You know a lot about the powerful splendour of music, I must admit. But I can teach you so much more.

Don't be threatened, my dear, I only wish for your happiness. Together, you shall sore to the heavens, and beyond to more.

Abide by my law and rules and you will go farther than you can imagine.

Your Master,

Le Baiser Du Fantôme

I finished writing it, and reread it many times. Yes, that was what I would give her; lessons from myself. I would decide whether or not she was ready for a role. She was my student now. She was mine.

I slid the note on her bed table when she slept that night. It would be the first thing she saw when she woke that morning.

When she woke the next morning, I saw her eyes fall upon the note. I scarcely breathed as she opened it. I couldn't see her expression as she read it, but once she finished she looked up to her ceiling. I childishly ducked away from the crack, in fear she could see me. She simply smiled, fell to her knees and said, "I'm so honoured you're gracing me of all people. I am yours." My heart fluttered within my bosom, relief and excitement flooded my minded, making it light. She left the room and I rolled over onto my back. I breathed hollowly; I was so relieved and numb. She was mine, and I'll never let her go.


	8. She's Mine

Chapter 8

She's Mine!

Three years passed. Cristal's voice improved greatly with my lessons; she now sang even more beautifully than before. And she was very respectful of me; though I had never instructed for her to be the lead role. In fact, when the director was thinking about putting her as the lead role, I cut two other fingers off. And I cut one off because he almost gave Joel the siding role.

But it was the end of the first year that I started the lessons with Cristal; when I let myself be forgotten by the other members of the group for a while. I allowed Cristal to be cast as a chorus member very often, and was given very small roles.

Cristal had frequently questioned me when I did such things. But I would simply write her a note saying

All in time, child.

I have plans for you. Big plans.

She'd accept the response and carry on.

One night, I was standing at my boarded window, (whose boards were rotting terribly,) because Cristal wasn't in her room, ready for her lesson as she always was. It was past sunset and nearing night, and in the middle of the backyard, so I could see them perfectly, I observed Joel trying to caress Cristal and it seemed to be working slightly; she wasn't as tense as she used to be, but she still wouldn't look him directly in the eye. I knew that Cristal hated Joel, and now she looked as if she was his dear friend, she was giggling and whispering with him. My heart tensed within my bosom, as my lungs seemed to shake and shrivel away. My chest felt like a thousand pins were sticking the inside. The feeling that I was about to black out was eminent as my stomach was writhing like a hangman. I wasn't able to hear what they were saying, but Cristal then shot an adored look into Joel's eyes; they smiled and got close to each other; I could feel my mouth drop from behind my mask, if he got any closer to her I'd cut _both_ his hands off. Every breath was an immense effort; it felt as if I were slowly dying in mere seconds that lasted forever.

My face pressed up against the boards, and I had to strain to hear but Joel's voice seemed to creep through the sky saying, "-And now you're mine," He said it in a tender way, but Cristal didn't notice, she was growing enraged. Her warm face turned to disgust and anger, and she pushed Joel back, he was much more surprised than I was. (And I was quite surprised.)

Cristal's sweet voice was dripping with fury as it rang through the inky night sky, "_I_ am _not __yours_!" She then turned on her heel and stormed right past Joel. My body was freed from the terror of Cristal's danger; feeling revived itself throughout my being. I smiled a cruel and satisfied smile as I watched Cristal disappear in the building in a storm of misty hatred. I then watched Joel stand there in disbelief and perplexity; his mouth hanging open stupidly and his arms dangling at his sides, completely immobilized by being slapped with shear truth by a girl as dazzling as Cristal. I chuckled at his stupidity, and moved away from the window.

When she came into her room, I was already above her and had written letters, congratulating and praising her for the excellent job she accomplished. Her only response to this was, "You were watching me?"

I scribbled a note.

Yes, my dear.

I am always watching you. Don't ever think that you're alone.

Because I'm there watching and protecting you.

The note floated down to rest in front of her.

"Truly, Master?" She said and looked up to the ceiling from the floor where she was kneeling; she looked as if a dream of hers had just come true.

Indeed, beloved Cristal.

But now, it is late.

Now, you must sleep.

"Good night, Angel," Cristal muttered sliding behind her dressing curtains.

"Good night, Cristal," I said getting up and walking away. Once I was sure she was under her covers, fast asleep, I mumbled "My adored Cristal, sleep well. Don't let the hatred toward that impertinent boy keep you perturbed." I stretched onto my own bed. I continued to smile until thoughts entered my mind that quickly made the grin vanish. I had come so close to losing her. She was a delicate flower of heaven; she was the only thing I had. No other would hear me with the gratitude she did. No other would know with the same understanding she did. Everything was so fragile around her. It was a miracle that she trusted me so, but I suppose the past history may be the cause of her faith in anything. But the mere thought of her turning from me, abandoning me, caused me to – oh, how unspeakable. I would never let her fall into the claws of danger. How horrible this world is, what evil lies in it that no one truly sees. I would die to protect her. I would die for her. Terror sunk into the core of my body. How could I help her see everything that I know, all the peril that could befall her? I know that I can't stop it all, but I would do the best I could. I would do everything and more, if only I could. I turned to face the wall. I felt sick with defencelessness.

As our lessons continued, once, Cristal had said politely, "Master, you say my voice is glorious past the divine. And yet, you still don't wish for me to have the main role. Why?" but I simply wrote her a note, stating

My plans for you are large, child.

Doubt me no longer. In time you will see.

Trust me.

Cristal bowed her beautiful head respectfully. "Yes, dear Angel. I trust you. I shan't doubt you any more. Forgive me."

I scribbled another note.

Yes, Cristal.

Now, let's continue.

And we carried on with the lesson.

I had never let myself be seen by her. I stayed in the attic as she sang from the fourth floor. I figured she always thought the music was coming from the heavens above and the notes materialize and float down to her; I wasn't sure whether or not she knew there was an attic.


	9. Angelina's Mistake

It seemed at one point in time that the whole world was against Cristal. She had people envying her because of her magnificent voice and captivating good appearance. The worst was, perhaps, Angelina. She was loud – which made her voice fouler – she could _not_ act – not as miserably as Joel, though – and she was as ugly as sin!

One night, before a performance, I was in the crawl space above the chorus room. The young ladies were in there doing their scales as they always did before a show. Cristal was in her costume. She was dressed as the Countess's daughter, Rebecca. Cristal had a minor-major role. She would be on the stage for all of Act 1 and till the end of Act 2 when she dies. Angelina, on the other hand, is the Countess and is on the stage the entire play except for five scenes.

As the girls in the room got higher and higher with the piano, Cristal got louder and louder, while still maintaining the beautiful voice. Angelina heard this and got louder too, making Cristal's beauty shine more. But the higher the scales got the more girls died away, until only Cristal was singing and Angelina was screaming. It had become a competition between the two. Higher and higher the piano got, and Cristal hit every note with remarkable ease. Angelina was just shrieking to keep up. It continued until the piano couldn't go any higher. Angelina's voice quit, but Cristal continued without accompaniment. Then the last, and highest note she sang, she held out. The pianist's glasses, windows and the glass doorknob all cracked and shattered. She quit singing the beautiful note. Everyone, except Cristal, was covering their ears, even me in the crawl space between the ceiling and the floor above. But despite my painstakingly ringing ears, I also had to suppress my enthusiasm to a giant grin that shone behind my mask. All the girls in the room rubbed their ears as they left. Unfortunately for the first girl who had to open and prop the door open also had to pick bits of glass out of her hand before the show. Nearly all the girls were gone, but Cristal didn't leave. She always stayed afterward to play the piano a bit. But Angelina, also, stayed behind.

I pulled a nearby ceiling tile up and saw that Cristal was walking over to the piano when Angelina shoved her against the wall. I almost lunged at her, white hot fury numbed my body and my limps tingled with adrenaline and anger. I could've flung the ceiling tile off, jumped into the room and strangled Angelina where she stood. But the thought of being seen and the screams of the orphans so many years ago erupted in my ears; and I was forced to fight the urge.

"If you _ever_," Angelina warned, pointing her finger at Cristal, who was spread against the wall, "try to steal _my_," she jabbed the finger at herself, "fans, adoring audience, or spotlight again, I _will_ make your life a living hell!"

And with that, Angelina stormed out of the room. Cristal waited patiently, still sprawled out against the wall. She waited until she knew Angelina was out of the hallway outside, and ran for the door.

I put the ceiling tile back in its place and squeezed through the crawl space as quick as I could. I knew where Cristal was going. She was going to her room to talk to me.

I crawled as quickly as I could up the gap between the wall and the outside of the building. It was slightly difficult to squeeze between the walls and climb straight up, constricting past the support beams. But I managed to flatten myself through only getting stuck thrice.

Once I got up three stories, I was in the attic. I edged through a hole I made in the wall for getting from floor to floor without using the stairs.

I heard Cristal's bedroom door close and her feet walking over to her bed. She said as she crossed the room, "Master? Angel?" Her voice was sweet covering fury; she knelt at her bedside. I pulled my foot, which was wedged in the wall, out. I made my way silently over to the crack I had chipped between two ceiling tiles. It was used for when I wanted to watch Cristal during her waking hours, or when I wanted to slip notes to her. She'd see the notes falling from the ceiling; which must have been confusing for she couldn't see the crack.

I wrote her a note.

Child?

What is the matter?

I pushed the note through the crack; it landed on Cristal's bed, and she read it.

"Oh, Master," she said looking up, "Down stairs in the chorus room, I sang – high. _Really_ high." I scribbled another note.

Yes, I heard.

It was astounding!

I sent it through the crack. She read it and blushed. "Thank you," she stated in a small bashful voice. "But afterwards," her voice stiffening again, "Angelina threatened to that if I ever did that again, she'd 'make my life a living hell.' I think she's going to sabotage me!" Cristal was clearly panicked. I dropped a last note into her room that said,

Oh, Cristal!

Angelina will never get the chance to make _you _look bad!

'Tis impossible to do so.

"How can you be so certain?" Cristal said looking up at the ceiling. I didn't write another note, I didn't say anything. I just waited until she glanced back down at the note and turned it over. I had already written on the back:

Trust me

Cristal smiled at the ceiling again. I smiled back.

She stood up and took the notes over to the table that served as a desk. She put them down and walked out of the room, to ready for the performance.

A while later; I made my way down to the main floor for the show. I always watched Cristal's shows from the rafters above the audience and stage. So it wasn't the first time I had been out of the attic. I was wearing my cape with the hood pulled up, just like when I'd cut the director's fingers off. I made my way down the side of the building in the wall to the third floor. I crawled between the ceiling of the second story and the floor of the third story. Stalking the hallway below, I eagerly awaited the chance to appear in the hall. It wasn't long before that floor and staircase was clear, all its occupants had made their way to the backstage. I removed the ceiling tile and dropped through. I was at the foot of the staircase, going down to the first floor, but instead of going to the auditorium, I went to the kitchen. The kitchen was deserted. Opening a bunch of cabinets, I grabbed some herbs from a top cupboard and made my way to the backstage. I knew I wouldn't stick out in my cape, for there were about five other people there in similar black capes for when a character in the play is taken to Hell by demons at the end of the performance.

I had to hurry; the scene was almost over. I found the prop that was going to be used in the next scene; when the Countess and her daughter are having tea in the garden. I poured the herbs into the teacup that I knew Angelina was going to get. The second I finished, the curtain flew up, and the prop was taken away. I stood back and watched.

The butler, played by Joel, was carrying the tray of tea to the Countess and her daughter, Rebecca, who were sitting in the centre of the flowery stage.

"Your tea, Madame," Joel said so dramatically it sounded extremely stupid. I could only roll my eyes at this.

"Thank you," Angelina replied with an equivalent amount of stupidity. Joel set the cups down in front of Angelina and Cristal, and exited on the other side of the stage. Angelina got her cup; just as I had planned. The characters drank a sip of the tea before starting their conversation.

"So, Rebecca," Angelina rolled her "R"s unnecessarily. "You're going to ne-ee-ed a husband soon." I only shook my head in a pitiful manner.

"_Mother_," Cristal whined. It accented her role more when she looked around to see if anyone was listening. "There are no men I like; nonetheless – can tolerate." She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair.

"Rebecca, don't be so negative," up beat music started to play, as Angelina was about to brake out into song; as it always was in musicals. "You'll find the perfect man for your heart." She drained her teacup before singing.

"_You know you've found your love,_

_When time stops -_"

She broke off with a series of loud, hoarse coughs. I found myself smiling a wicked grin. Several members of the audience gasped, others whispered to their neighbours. The music continued with the same rhythm until Angelina was able to start singing again.

"_The only thing you can see is the man_

_Who you are spiritually connected to._

_True love is real!_

_Love at first sight is real -_"

She stopped again. Her coughs were louder and worst than before. The ugly coughs made the audience whisper and squirm. The music continued its bouncy tempo and waited for Angelina. It took her longer to collect herself and start singing; she just took up from where she left off.

"_You need_ Cough, cough, cough, _a man_

_Who'll_ Cough, cough,_ care for_

Cough, cough, cough, _you!_"

She ceased her horrid singing and coughed continuously. She couldn't stop this time! I chuckled at first, but once the music stopped and Angelina got up to exit the stage, (still coughing dreadfully,) I had burst out into a completely maniacal cackle. Several members of the audience began to laugh. I turned on my heel and walked out of the backstage. Onstage, Cristal got up and quickly left; half in shock, half in awe, and half of that, in embarrassment. I decided to take the staircase that I hadn't used in many years.

Walking up the stairs, I could hear people laughing, some people crying, others talking and shouting, and Angelina coughing ringing in the distance. The scent of wood and faint flowers had faded away over the years, apparently. In their place was the fragrance of perfume, blush-powder, cologne, and flowers that were slightly stronger than long ago. The staircase, itself, hadn't changed. The wallpaper was the same and so was the hardwood stairs.

I was at the top of the third staircase, going to the fourth floor, when I heard the sound of footsteps overpowering the sounds of the spectators below; the footsteps were coming from behind me. When I turned back to look, Cristal had brushed right into me.

"Sorry," she breathed in a kind, sweet, panting whisper as she ran to the forth floor. My heart skipped a beat; for one thing, Cristal had touched me, my heart felt like butter melting away, but then my heart bounced back up into my throat, if Cristal was going to talk to me and I wasn't there, she'd probably think I had abandoned her. I ran after her, trying to make my footsteps as faint as possible.

Once I got to the top of the stairway, I was able to catch a glimpse of Cristal running into her room and slamming the door behind her. I ran down the hall, soundlessly, to my door. But there was one thing I had forgotten. The padlock was brown with rust from age. I didn't have the key! Madame Stella must have destroyed it after I had been attacked by Côme.

I panicked when I heard Cristal kneeling by her bed, saying "Master?"

I had to think fast. Looking up, I remembered that I never closed the floorboards above Cristal's room. I just had to reach the ceiling to remove a tile so I could crawl through the space between the floor of the attic and the ceiling. Once I had accomplished that, all I had to do was find the open flooring, get paper and respond to Cristal.

I quickly glanced around; an old antique table with a lace doily stood near the staircase. It was the one that an orphan, years ago, had taken a vase from it, and threw at me. I ran over, grabbed the table and placed it in the middle of the hallway, between Cristal's and my doors. I grasped the sides of the top of it, and put my foot on the doily. The table wobbled dangerously as I picked my other foot up off the ground and placed beside the first. I worked as quickly as I could, but still slowly so if the table were to brake. I tried to be completely silent. I was standing up straight; my fingertips tingled with adrenalin as I felt the ceiling tiles.

Cristal's voice rang out from behind her door again. "Angel? Master, are you there?" her voice was in deep concern and wonder now.

I pushed the ceiling tile up and moved it aside. I grabbed two sides of the empty black square and pulled my body up with all my might. I had to thrash my legs, furiously, as if I were running, to get my body into the tight gap.

Once I succeeded at that I crawled to the hole in the attic floor. A light issued from the crack of Cristal's room, carrying with it Cristal's voice. "Master, I must speak to you."

I pulled myself half way through the hole in the floor, and grabbed the closest piece of parchment I could reach. I snatched up a quill, and jabbed it into my flesh for ink. The quill scratched across the parchment; the adrenalin from the blood in my hand surged, like pulsing light, on to the paper.

Yes, Cristal,

I'm here.

What is the problem?

The scrap of parchment floated down to Cristal's bed. She read it looked up, and said, "Master? Was it you? Were you the one who made Angelina ruin the song?"

I had pulled myself completely out of the hole, took my cape off, and started rubbing my bleeding hand. I had to think; if I said yes, would Cristal be ashamed of the heinous crime and hate me for eternity? Or would she appreciate it? But I couldn't take a long time thinking. With a leap of hope, I wrote her another note and slid it through the crack. She took it from the bed and read it.

Yes, my dear. I was.

No one will try to hurt you without getting hurt themselves.

Cristal gazed up at the ceiling, a wide, delighted smile on her face. "Thank you, Master. I knew it was you! I just wanted to make sure." I heaved a heavy sigh of relief. She looked back down at the note, and spoke again, "It makes me sleep easy, when I know that you, my master and guardian angel, are watching over me. Just me. Just like, Mother foretold."


	10. Cristal's Story

I froze. Cristal had never spoken of her parents before that. She got up, off the floor and started to walk around, completely imprisoned by her memories. She continued, speaking as if I were there in the room, listening to the great novel of her memoirs, but still hypnotized by thought.

"I'm sure you know my mother. You two are both in heaven together. Watching over me – guiding me." A feeling of guilt fled over me. She thought I was an angel, with her mother. But everything was a lie. I was no angel. If I were, it was no heaven I was in, but Hell. I could feel tears forming in my eyes, knowing that I was always lying to my light in darkness. Biting my lower lip, I listened on.

"You know that when I was a child, I didn't appreciate my parents as much as I should've. I pushed them away when they tried to take care of me. The only time I didn't was when Mother would cover me with the thickest blanket we had when we lived poor. She took the thinnest bedspread and froze at nights. That's probably what made her ill.

"But the nights I would wake up in a start, she would crawl over, wrap her chilled arms around me and tell me stories. Sometimes she'd even sing them." Cristal stopped and sat down at her dresser. She picked up a handkerchief and wiped her glassy eyes. After sniffing a few times she continued, "Mother always took the hardest beating for Father and I. Especially when she was dying." Cristal began to breath heavily, and her lower lip trembled, "It was cold outside. I was in the river. I was five, and the current was too strong that night. I was being swept down the icy water before I even knew what was happening. When I finally called out it was too late. I was half a mile down the river from the old cabin we were living in. Mother and Father came out to see their only child being brushed away by the waterway. Father hated water, and he didn't even bother to jump in to try and save me. He should've. Mother was too weak; the current took hold of her more easily than it did me. But she swam out to me, and got me to shore. How? I'll never know. But the second I grabbed onto Father's pants leg. The moment she knew I could be safe, she gave up. The current took her down another half mile where she tried to drown herself before going over the waterfall."

Cristal stopped talking and just cried for a while. I couldn't help but cry myself. I wondered how she could've kept it inside of her for all these years. I never heard her cry at night. No – she did cry. Whenever I didn't sing to her, or play the piano, she would cry. Well, not as much as she did while telling that story; I had never seen any one cry that much. Those nights I didn't sing she would sniff, and moan. It was as if my singing would save her from her terrible memories that stalked around in every corner of her nightmares.

She collected herself again; wiped her tears and started again, "I wonder, sometimes, that if Mother hadn't died, Father wouldn't have killed himself.

"Every night he would go out drinking, using the little money we had to get drunk. And every night he would come back, and yell, a-and scream, a-a-and once he even hit me.

"I was seven when he finally broke down – heartbroken. He wasn't drunk that night. We had been home, in the old cabin, and he was reading me a story that he had found on the street. I don't remember the story that well, but it was at a part when a cat had been trampled by a horse. It wasn't that sad of a part, but he was crying terrible. And that's when Father got up and said, 'I'll be back, child. I'll only be a minute.'

"I thought he was going out to get inebriated. But seconds after he walked out the broken door, I heard a splash in the river. I got up and ran to the river bank. I saw my father thrashing about in the freezing water. He couldn't swim. I wanted to jump in and try to save him, but my body didn't move. I was immobilized. My mind wanted to save him, but heart thought that life would be better without him. How truly wicked of me!"

Cristal whimpered and blew her nose in the handkerchief. Pity ran over me. I thought I was miserable here. It took Cristal a while to start again. "Father drowned before he got to the falls. But I was lucky. A fisherman, who lived in a house a mile away from the cabin, heard my father's cries. The fisherman found me in the cabin, wrapped in my mother's blanket. He took me home with him.

"A few months later he took me to the orphanage that was here before the theatre group was." Cristal stood up from her dresser and walked over to her bed, pulled back the covers, and climbed in; still in her costume, "I hated every waking moment here. The children were terribly mean, and the owners were cruel, but they tried to cover it up with a hideous sweetness. It didn't always work.

"But although the days were miserable, I felt safe and comforted at night. I could hear music, like I never heard it before." She laid her head down on her pillow, looking at the corner of the room, where the ceiling met the wall, "I know it was you. Mother told me that if she were to die, that she would make sure that I had a guardian to help me, and save me." Tears shone from Cristal's porcelain cheek. I had to take my mask off, and wipe my deformed face of tears. I didn't put it back on. I just looked through the crack again.

"You're what makes me love my mother more," she continued, "And now that she's gone, I realise how wicked truly I was to her. I should have respected her, as I do you. Master, you'll never leave me. Right? Mother said that you'd been with me until I die of old age. You're going to stay. I know you are."

I only gasped when I wasn't quick enough to catch the tear that fell from my eye through the crack. It soared through Cristal's room, and landed on her stomach. She gasped as she saw it hit her gently. She dabbed it with her finger, and looked at the shining liquid.

"Oh, Angel," she said looking up at the ceiling, "Do not weep for me. As a child, the orphans here would speak of a terrible story, of a monster that lived in the walls of this building. They said that he was hated and feared by all who laid their eyes on him." I stopped crying as she turned on her side to face the wall. "They said he was hideous, and grotesque. Some said he was a descendant of Satan, himself. I remember that one child said, 'I saw him, myself. It was like looking at a corpse that had been brought back to life, but having the fires of Hell melt its face. His repulsive face still haunts my nightmares. He lives in the walls and watches us at night, waiting to make his move, so he can kill us all and take us back to his master, The Devil.'"

I grew sick at this thought. I knew I didn't look like that, I had seen myself before. And yet, that was many years ago, I could have been mistaken for what I thought I looked like. My memory must've changed over the years. I don't remember looking like a corpse. Then again, I didn't want to remember when I first saw myself. I encouraged forgetfulness.

"I knew it was all fake," Cristal continued. "I knew that he was just trying to scare me. It didn't work." She fell silent for a moment, deep in thought, "But I was so glad I wasn't that poor soul. I couldn't imagine being hated by everyone; especially my parents. I was lucky for what I got. I mean, could you image being despised and loathed by humanity? I think I would've killed myself once I was old enough to hold a knife if I had been ugly and abhorrent."

Cristal's word cut deep into my soul. Shocked, I stood up and made my way to my own bed. I felt both deceived and ashamed. Ashamed, not only for my hideousness and the fact that I knew that was true, - but for Cristal. I forced myself to wipe away disgraced tears. I didn't understand why she would say something like that. She didn't even –

"And then again," Cristal said from her bed, "I don't think that that tormented person had a choice. Maybe he was born ugly. I don't know." She chuckled slightly, "I don't even think he's real. But if he is," I sat down on my bed, listening heard to hear her tone changed to mercy again, "I sympathize him. I pity him. I almost applaud him; for taking in everything that's been thrown at him. For enduring the heartless, compassionless life he's been given. I wish I could –"

I wanted to hear more, but Cristal had droned herself to sleep. I waited a while, just to make sure she wasn't just taking a pause. My heart lifted. She didn't even know it was me, and yet she pitied the monster, she was willing to show him mercy and compassion. I shook my head at myself.

"I'm sorry, Cristal," I said in a soft whisper, that I didn't think carried over to the crack in the ceiling of her room. "I shouldn't have doubted you. I shouldn't have thought that you – I'm sorry. I shan't do it again. Forgive me." I stretched out on my mattress, in guilt. I couldn't believe that I had a slim amount of faith for Cristal. How could I be so unloyal towards her? She was my - everything, I had great feelings for her. If it weren't for her, I'd be lost; empty; miserable. I wouldn't do that again. If I did, I would punish myself. How? I didn't know. But I would. I would assure I would not doubt Cristal's trust in me again.


	11. Listening In

I couldn't sleep right then. Instead, I travelled to Angelina's room. It was on the second floor. I crawled through the walls and the gap between the second and third floor. I knew I was above Angelina's room, when I heard loud sobbing and horrible coughing. I stopped and lifted a ceiling tile. Angelina was sitting at her dresser, tissues in her hand, and a fan in the other. The director was standing at the door with the doctor, who had a powerful cough serum in his grasp.

"Angelina, please," the director pleaded, "It's just a cough, you might have a cold. You might be allergic to the tea we used. What ever it is, it is _nothing_ to worry abou-"

"NO!" Angelina sobbed, "It was planned! Cough, cough, cough Sabotage! Someone wants to make me miserable! They want me out!" She paused and coughed awhile. Her face then light up, an event earlier gave her this idea. "It was Cristal!"

"Cristal?" the two men at the door asked.

"How could that be? She-"

"Yes, it was Cristal!" Angelina interrupted the director. "I've seen the way she looks around; pretending to be completely innocent. Well, she's _not_! Cough, cough, cough, cough She always was jealous of me. She can't sing, you know. She screamed to keep up with me when I shattered the chorus room windows. She's not cough to be cough trusted. Cough, cough, cough She'll deceive us all! She'll be the end of this theatre as we know it!"

"No, no," the doctor said as Angelina paused to cough a nasty, hacking gag, "Young Cristal couldn't have done it."

"Indeed," the director said, motioning to the doctor for him to give Angelina the cough serum, "Cristal was on the stage the entire time. It would be impossible for her to act _and_ deceive you at the same time. She'd have to be in two places at-"

"She had that one friend," Angelina argued, "The ballet girl; with orange hair. Olive or something. _She_ did it! _She_ spiked my drink!"

The director tried to figure out which ballerina it was. He couldn't figure out who it was, but something dawned on him. He said, "But the ballet girls are kept in the dance room. They only come out to get onto the stage. Even then, the girl couldn't have done it."

Angelina furiously drank the cough serum the doctor handed her. She hated to be wrong. I smiled as she choked on the serum from drinking it too fast. The doctor ran over and patted her on the back.

"Now you listen – to me," Angelina said swallowing hard, "If Cristal stays here; I'm leaving!" I turned to leave with a satisfied grin sprawled across my face. I crawled to the wall; the voices from the room carried through the crawl space.

"Angelina, please," the director pleaded desperately to her. "Don't let a little thing like this ruin your brilliant career!"

"No, no, no! Get out! Cough, cough Get out of my room!" I could feel her door slam with a loud echoing _bang!_

I chuckled as I climbed up the wall, and was still sniggering once I reached the attic. I walked to the piano in the corner, sat down, placed my fingers on the keys, and the most cheerful and merry song I knew floated from the instrument. I smiled gaily, a calm delight, as I pounded the ivory keys. The very thought of Angelina leaving and Cristal getting all the attention – but then the thought hit me. Cristal! I dropped my hands, sour notes sprang everywhere. Here I was; playing a jolly tune; right after Cristal had told that terrible miserable story.

Filled with mixed emotions of uncommon cheer, and sorrow and grief, I could not deny my joy for Angelina's suspected departure. I also wanted to stay in that blissful mood that rarely occupied my empty soul. I jumped off the piano bench, and ran – almost skipped – soundlessly to the opening above Cristal's room. I peeked inside; Cristal was in a deep sleep, gently purring soft snores. I smiled an excited grin as I took a piece of parchment from a pile I kept close by. I wrote her a not for the morning.

Good Morning, Dear Cristal!

I trust you slept well throughout the night.

But I have news that shall brighten your beautiful face.

Angelina will soon be leaving!!

From the way the conversation went, I am completely certain!

Hang in there strong, my dear.

Your Master

Le Baiser Du Fantôme

I set the note on her bedside table. I dangled from the rope that allowed me to climb in and out of Cristal's room. I lingered over the pretty girl I watched turn into a beautiful woman. I smiled warmly at her from behind my mask, before pulling myself back up into the attic. I propped myself up on one arm and watched the enchanting young woman sleep; a cheerful smirk exposed on my face.

The next morning, I saw Cristal stir as she awoke and look directly at the bed table as she did every night. She nearly jumped out of her bed and snatched the letter up. Her beam switched to a huge smile as she read. She began to squeak excitedly, and jump and dance around the room. I couldn't suppress my fits of laughter any longer. Cristal was twirling around the room, bobbing on her toes, humming a joyous song. But she must've heard me laugh, for she stopped suddenly. She smiled up at the ceiling, blushed and giggled; slightly embarrassed of her sudden silliness.

A week past, Angelina didn't open her mouth to sing once. (Thank God.) And a day later she was gone. The director had chased after her pleading desperately for her to stay. Offering her jewels and money, but she just ran out the door, hiccupping uncontrollably as she went. After that no one saw her again, most of the choir girls were glad; but no one was as delighted as Cristal.


	12. Chanson De Gabriel

One night, several months after Angelina's departure, Cristal came running into her room; a large grin spread across her gorgeous face. She ran over to her bed and got down on her knees, as if praying, and spoke aloud, "My dear master, the theatre wants to do the play called _Musique de la nuit_ and the director asked me first, if I would like to play Chanson De Gabriel, the main role! Please, Master, please let me be the lead role this one time!" She was so excited and so hopeful, "I've been waiting for this for such a long time!"

I quickly scribbled a note.

OF COURSE NOT!

YOU ARE STILL NOT READY! YOU STILL HAVE A LOT TO LEARN BEFORE A ROLE AS EXCELLENT AS THAT!

I swiftly dropped it through the slot between the two ceiling tiles when she had her eyes closed tight, praying hard. She opened her blue eyes, saw the note and read it quickly, her enthusiastic face then fell, rapidly, to the floor where it shattered.

"But, Angel," she said disappointed and hopeful as she looked back up to the ceiling, "This is incredibly important to me –"

"YOU DARE DISREGUARD YOUR MASTER'S DECISION?" I thundered from above her. My voice shook the mirrors and decorations one the wall. This fake fury and rage surged through my every word.

She fell off her knees in fear and pleaded, "No, Master, never!" Her voice was meek and quiet.

"ARE YOU NOT APPERCIATIVE OF MY TEACHING TO YOU?" I continued to bombard her with these rude and arrogant questions, which I already knew the answers to, "DO YOU WANT ME TO STOP TEACHING YOU THE INFLUENCE OF MUSIC, DO YOU?"

"Master, forgive me! I should not have asked for the part," Cristal's voice sounded shaky, frightened and guilty at the same time, "You are right, I am not ready for this great part. I overestimated myself," she got off the ground and stood, her head hung respectfully, "I am very appreciative of the lessons you teach me. And now I am ready to learn more. I am _yours_."

I was truly touched by this, but still I roared, "NO! I WILL NOT TEACH TODAY! YOU DON'T DESIVE IT NOW! BE HERE TOMORROW!" I saw her through the crack in the tiles; she looked up at the ceiling, tears ran from her eyes. Though she did not argue, she simple left the room with her head hung again.

Once the door of her room closed gently, I froze. What had I done? I had insulted Cristal and her angelic voice. How could I've done that? Cristal believed in me, when I had not, and now she probably hated me. (Although knowing Cristal, she could never hate me.) I, then, congratulated myself in be cruel to my student and the only person I had great feelings for. I could no longer hear Cristal's footsteps on the stairs; she must have gone to tell her director that she couldn't take the part. Guilt ate at my soul and heart, and this sorrow churned my thoughts. I wrote her a note.

Dearest Cristal,

Forgive me for being so angry with you today. I have been thinking. Since your 18th birthday is coming up soon, I will grant your wish of being Chanson De Gabriel in the play _Musique de la nuit_. Tell your director tomorrow that you can play the lead. I have decided that you are now more than ready for the role.

If your director refuses, then come back and tell me. Do not fear for him then, child, he would deserve what he would receive.

Your Master,

Le Baiser Du Fantôme

I slid this note on Cristal's bed table and I waited over the crack in the tile until Cristal came back later that night. When she did, she instantly saw the note; her face had a hint of fear on it, and read it by candle light. As she did, she gasped; her expression held not mention of fear any longer and her entire face lit up with excitement and enthusiasm.

She looked straight to the ceiling, a wide grin on her face and said excitedly, "Master? Oh, Master, thank you. Thank you so much, Master. Thank you!" she hugged the note slightly.

I had a smirk on my own face, and I spoke to her softly, so she could hear me gently, "You're welcome, my darling. Now you must sleep. For tomorrow we practice hard and intensively."

She smiled, tenderly set the note on the bed table, blew the candle out and got into her bed.

"Good night, Cristal," I said gingerly to her as she quickly fell asleep. When she began to purr soft snores, I started to sing to her, the tenderest and most heartwarming song I could think of.


	13. Practicing

The next day, Cristal told her director, (he had _no_ problem with it what so ever. Though I was very slightly disappointed; I had rather enjoyed my little visits with him) and we practiced her singing the entire day. I gave her a break once in a while so she could eat, then we practiced some more. We would do this every night after she had practiced on the stage with the director and the rest of the cast.

One night after she practiced with me, Cristal said that all this singing was a lot of hard work, and that she had sang about seventeen hours everyday, and that her voice was aching from the extremely high notes that she had to sing. But she said it didn't bother that much, her passion was singing, and she would go to the most tremendous extents to sing her favorite and the most famous song in the play, "Pour Chanter Pour Toujours." It is said to be the most complex piece of music to sing; some professionals were not even able to get half way through it. But Cristal said, "But with you helping me, Master, I know I can not go wrong. Thank you and good night."

"Good night, Cristal," I whispered to her, and she fell straight asleep when I started to play the piano for her.


	14. The Mirror and Getting Ready

Two months later, the play, _Musique de la nuit_, was open to the public. I thought that I would attend the performance, I had "borrowed" Joel's finest evening wear; and was mildly entertained when he ripped threw almost every room looking for it. The ensemble was quite handsome on me, I must admit. The outside of it was black while the inside lining was a deep maroon; it came with a cape and top hat of the same qualities. I marveled at myself in a mirror. The colors of the outfit seemed to make my mask gleam through the dark light of the setting sun, which was being consumed by the trees on the edge of the yard.

Vibrant colors of red, pink, orange, purple and gold exploded into the sky, whose clouds were small in number. My mouth then curled into a somewhat greedy smile. I don't know why it appeared greedy to me, but the longer I gazed at my reflection the more I thought and the more I hated it. My smile promptly faded into a frown of dismay and confusion, and then enraged fury. I pulled my stare away from the mirror and found an old fire poker. I picked it up and charged at the mirror, smashing it to as many pieces as I could. I didn't want to hide from the world. I didn't want to hide from Cristal, above all humans, but even more, I didn't want her to see my vile face. After shattering the mirror to bits, I panted as slightly satisfied grin smeared from behind my skull mask again. I staggered over to my worn-out bed, dropping the fire poker, which had broken in half from the beating it took, on the way. I plopped onto the bed, (which shifted slightly under the weight,) in a depressed manner. Tears ran from my eyes, and I threw my head in my hands, moaning, "Oh, Cristal. I only want you could see me for who I truly am, not this repulsive carcass that shows. You were in my heart when I was shamed into this wretched solitude, and shunned by the world itself. And yet, in this immortal darkness, I heard you, singing. I think that's when I knew you must be mine. How long ago it was, and I still crave your beauty; your light. But I am left in darkness. Oh, Cristal, loving Cristal, show me the way out of this hell," my voice was shaky, and I spoke between sniffs, and the wiping away of tears, "Oh, Cristal!"

After hearing people rustling around below me, I muttered "Shit!" under my breath, for I had nearly almost forgotten about the performance, thinking of my own needs instead.

Everyone was ready, although Cristal was extremely nervous. Her friend, Olivia, was helping her put on her corset. Olivia was about a year younger than Cristal, from what I could guess, and wasn't as beautiful as her in my opinion. Olivia came here when the theatre opened; she was training to be a ballerina, though she had a cute singing voice that reminded me of a kitten.

"Cristal, you'll be wonderful, I know it." Olivia's comforting words weren't working. I was watching through the crack in the ceiling again. Olivia was much shorter than Cristal and had orange hair with a few freckles. She was in a ballerina's dress made of blue, pink and white gauze; and was wearing toe shoes that made her walk in a strange manner. Olivia was helping Cristal tie a corset that would be covered by a large white dress, (it must have weighed at least seventy-five pounds) that had a light see-through blue clothe over the skirt, and pink-white bows on it. It was very gorgeous, and when Cristal had it on, I thought as if I were looking at an angel. Though when I looked at her face I saw caution and discomfort, (which could be from the corset.)

"Oh, Cristal," Olivia said, noticing her too, "What's the matter?"

"I wish he was here," Cristal explained, "I want him to be here with me; although I can sense his presence whenever I sing. He said that he was always with me, but I wish he were here. In person. I want to see him as we triumph above all." She looked down. "I only hope I don't screw this up, I just want to please him."

"Who, Cristal? Who?"

"The Angel," she said, looking up at Olivia. She seemed excited to explain. "He was there for me every day, teaching me, and coaching me," she frowned slightly. "But now he not here, especially when I need him the most!"

"Cristal, you mustn't think of that now!" Olivia said, trying to sound encouraging, but failing drastically, "There's a full house. You can't back down now. Everyone is counting on you."

"Thank you, that's heartening," Cristal said sarcastically, as Olivia finished tying the back tightly.


	15. The Preformance

The performance was glorious on Cristal's behalf! I was watching from the rafters above the stage. The audience was plentiful and respectful, when the chorus sang a pitiful song, they clapped, after every scene, they clapped. But their hands must have bled because Cristal was astounding! She got through "Pour Chanter Pour Toujours" perfectly. I was quite impressed and very proud. Joel was even more terrible that night. He croaked every song he sang off key, and he even fell over a ballerina. But I was rather touched by Cristal, for whenever Chanson De Gabriel cried, (which she did often,) Cristal had a few oozing tears trickle down her silky cheek, making her make-up smudge.

I made my way to the attic before the curtain call was over, and I found Cristal's bedroom filled with bouquets of flowers. I removed the flowers from her bed table and took all the roses out of the other bouquets. I used one single blood-red rose and tied a black ribbon lined with gold, which I had made especially for that night, in which I had sewn, in golden letters, the words:

"_To Cristal_

_From Le Baiser Du Fantôme_"

I placed it on her bed table along with a note I had written for her earlier, and I hide the rest of the roses in the attic with myself.


	16. Ready for Midnight

When Cristal came to her bedroom a lot later, I was watching from the crack again. She was being adored by the audience and asked repeatedly if she would sing again, which she rejected politely. She had her photo taken many times and her hand must have been sore from signing autographs and having it shaken many times. When she entered the room, she marveled at the miscellaneous bouquets and then saw the rose. She walked over and picked it up. She smiled; a silent rejoice inside of her as she smelt it. Then she read the note I wrote.

Excellent Job, Cristal!

I was very proud, I must have taught you well. The angels cheered and shed golden tears on your behalf tonight. You truly are remarkable, Cristal. You were where beautiful for both senses of sight and sound. And now that you have achieved this, you are ready I feel.

At Midnight, be ready.

Your Master,

Le Baiser Du Fantôme

"Thank you; Master," Cristal said looking up at the ceiling, "I will be ready for what ever you have in store for me."


	17. The Angel's Kiss

At midnight, I sang out for her. It was a song that I sang to her at night once before. She and I knew it, though. She responded in song also. Her voice was much more beautiful than mine, although that could be that everything about her was gorgeous. I sang with all my soul and spirit, and it came out a lovely tune that I could've never imagined before. I baffled myself, although I think that Cristal felt the music naturally, and she could embrace it in a way that I could not. My voice was not like that of an angel, as hers was to me. I climbed down the ladder, and continued to sing, enticing her in my song. I undid the locked door, and walked across the hall. (My mask firmly on) I opened her door slowly. She was extremely surprised to see and masked figure in her doorway, but once she saw that I was the one crooning she understood that it was me, and I had come for her, as her master and angel. She walked over to me and grabbed my hand. We strolled across the hall together and entered the attic, still engaged in song.

My attic was much different now. I had become obsessed with Cristal's voice and appearance that I had drawn her face in the dust and on bits of parchment that were decorating the walls. Cristal was amazed at the appearance of the room that she had walked straight into a life-size picture of herself. She stopped singing and let out a loud terrified scream; I stopped singing myself, ran over behind her, and covered her mouth but he screech was already heard only by Joel, who was on his way to his own room. He dashed off in the direction of the fourth floor.

I wrapped my arm around Cristal and laid my head on her shoulder. I whispered softly and comfortingly into Cristal's ear, "Don't worry my dear. It's just a picture. It's fine, everything is just fine." There was a silence as Cristal stared, wide-eyed, at the picture and she panted slightly from behind my hand. I reached into my pocket. "Come," I cooed to her, "there is something I wish to ask you." And I pulled out a small black velvet box.

But as I finished Joel burst into the room. Cristal and I jump to see his face which was panic-stricken and pale. Joel saw my mask and knew instantly who I was. (Not to mention I was wearing his expensive clothes.) And he grew furious; I saw it in his eyes. He charged at me yelling, "DON'T YOU DARE HURT HER!"

"Why would I harm my own?" I said calmly, pushing Cristal aside to my bed, it collapsed to the floor from the weight, and a storm cloud of dust erupted into the room. I stepped aside and let Joel charge right past me. As the swarm of dust settled, I slipped the box back into my pocket as Joel stopped at the window, turned around and came back for a second try. He took me to the ground, and we struggled for the longest time. Joel kept trying to snatch my mask off. He was on top of me, hitting me whenever he could find an open spot. I could feel blood streaming down the side of my mouth. I was able to hit him on the side of his head. He fell off me and I kicked him in the nose. Joel flew up to his feet and stumbled back. He grabbed the fire poker that was broken in half. He swung it at me, swiftly and angrily. I rolled around the dusty floor as the fire poker came down, smashing floor boards. I rolled on to my back, and before Joel could bring the poker down again, I kicked him in the chest and he stumbled back to the window boards which cracked dangerously. I was able to get up. I looked at Cristal, who hadn't moved from the collapsed bed. She was watching us, wide-eyed, in fear. She seemed to be paralyzed. I started towards her – to comfort her - but once I was nearly to the bed, when Cristal squealed, "LOOK OUT!"

I heard Joel charging from behind me, the fire poker raised high above his head. He was yelling a battle cry of fury. All at once I wiped around and raised my right arm to block him. Siring pain flooded my limp - I knew it was broken – but I did anything to guard my head and torso. Joel swung the poker and gave me a hard blow in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I doubled over and fell down on one knee.

Cristal took it upon herself to help me, her master. I got up - Joel took one final jab at me, and Cristal came running over. The poker went right through Cristal's back. Joel let go of the poker and back away from the venomous thing with surrendering hands. I grabbed Cristal's arms to prevent her from falling back; I knew she was dying quickly. She reached out and grabbed my mask off my face. I didn't care though. The woman I loved was dying and I could careless about my appearance.

Cristal's mouth dropped, her eyes widen in surprise, at the face of this monster. She fell gently to the ground, I was still holding on to her tightly; guiding her to the floor. When she was all the way down, I turned to look at Joel, who was just as shocked at I was. But my shock turned to anger, quickly. I raised myself to my full height. Joel was, also, no longer shocked but petrified, at the sight of my face. I started to walk to him, slowly, being careful of stepping over Cristal, who was just barely hanging on to life. I could feel anger radiating off my body. I felt my arms stiffen and my feet punch the flooring. My breathing became hard and shaky. I felt my eyes boring into his. My entire body shook with an indescribable fury and sheer hatred towards the noxious imbecile!

"You killed her," I said, I found myself speaking in a low menacing whisper, which slowly grew louder the more I spoke; my voice was a forceful and cruel growl, "You _killed her!_"

"No," Joel said both guiltily and frightened, backing farther and father away.

"You KILLED HER!" Joel was backed up to the window. "You took her from me!" Tears streamed down my face.

"Stay back!"

"I'LL KILL YOU!" and with that I lunged forward and tried to grab his neck with outstretched crawls, but he had turned and ran right through the rotting wood of the board on the windows. Joel's screams where echoing over the woods, and then some, until his body landed five stories below on the ground.

I stood there, looking at the spot where the carcass lied, until I heard a faint voice, "It's you."

I whipped around to look at Cristal who hadn't moved since I had laid her on her side. A cool, worried sensation rushed over me like cataracts, smothering the fire of wrath. My stomach thrashed about in a sickening fret. "It was you. That one day, I had thought it was a dream, but it wasn't. When this place was still an orphanage," Cristal's voice was weak and strained.

I ran over to her; the most beautiful thing in the world. "Don't die; don't leave me alone, again." I said, as gently as I could.

"I didn't know it was you," Cristal said looking me dead in the eyes, "Erik."

I froze, Erik, she remembered me. "You remember."

"Yes, but I didn't know I'd fall in love with you, dear sweet angel," tears issued from her own eyes.

"No, Cristal." I knew she was going to die right there, "Don't leave me, please, don't leave." I ran my trembling fingers through her golden-brown hair. A tear dripped from my warped face and fell on to hers. I found myself wiping the shining tear from her white porcelain-like cheek.

She leaned up to my deformed face, looking past the distortion and hideousness, and kissed me. It was amazing; the last thing she did on this earth was kiss a beast. _She_ kissed _me_! She, the most gorgeous being in the world, kissed me! Her lips were soft and cold, and yet when they touched my flesh a wonderful warm sensation tingled every inch of my skin. But my stomach still felt sick.

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	18. My Last Wish

When she gently fell back, she had closed her eyes, forever. I whispered, "No, NO!" I held Cristal's cold corpse to my trembling body. I cradled her, crying for a long but short moment, mumbling, "No, no," into her deafened ear. I suddenly pulled the little velvet box out of my pocket. I opened it and pulled out the most expensive diamond ring the director was forced to find. I put the ring into Cristal's cold hand and closed it.

"I love you," I whimpered her, wanting a reply so badly. "I love you much!" I then cried on the body of my only love.

I didn't want her to die, but she did. Right there in my arms. I guess I just didn't what to go through with the terrible pain of agonizing suffering. I didn't want the image of her blank face to haunt my every waking moment - forever. Yet it does. I can still see the single shimmering tear that was about to fall from her eye. Cristal was my everything; my reason for living. But now since she's gone, I'm alone in my decrepit life again.

Oh God, I can't believe that I loved her so much, and yet she never knew who I was. Although that didn't matter to me and I don't think it mattered to her. But what does matter is that I can still hear her voice, every night when I sit awake in this miserable loneliness, I hear her singing through my empty tears, longing so much to be with her, wherever she was. And I can't get her out of my head! She just sings, over and over again the same song, and she doesn't stop. I'll never love anyone the same way. In fact, I never intend to see or hear another human being again. She heard me when I sang of my melancholy solitude, and she was the only thing in the world that took that away for a while. I love her so much, I am blinded by it.

I think I'm dying. Dying, because Cristal's killing me. I'm dying of a broken heart, the most painful death of them all. These tears I shed for her are filled with her love for me. And this misery is what she left me with. But I don't blame her. Oh, God! I could _never_ blame _her_! But I just can't believe she's _gone_! I love her _so_ much! And now I can't let go. She was mine, and now she gone; taken from me, by the icy departed hand of Death.

Oh; I only wish that she could be here now, singing one last song, "Pour Chanter Pour Toujours," with me again. Moi et mon ange de la musique.

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End file.
